


Write Your Injuries in Dust

by TheIndifferentDroid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post TLJ, Prompt Fill, hux is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:16:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIndifferentDroid/pseuds/TheIndifferentDroid
Summary: Hux may need some help after a stressful week. Whether he wants it or not."Write your injuries in dust, your benefits in marble."





	Write Your Injuries in Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for: The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade.

You meandered slowly through the halls after taking an early breakfast, biding your time until you absolutely needed to be at your post. The last few days–weeks, really–had been stressful. Work used to be your solace, a constant in an otherwise hectic life, but it was beginning to wear on you. It was beginning to wear on everyone in the First Order. 

 

The sight of the general occupying a corridor at this hour put you on high alert. You know his schedule. You really shouldn’t, but you did, and this was odd for him. Especially odd was his stance: datapad in hand, slouched only slightly, resting the curved part of his back against the cold durasteel wall. His right hip was kicked out casually, and his left foot jutted out like a marring black scar in the bright hallway. Even if you hadn’t been perhaps a little overly interested with what he typically looked like, this would still be an odd position to find him in.

 

"General," you said, nodding as you passed him.

 

"Good evening," Hux replied, not looking up from his datapad. 

 

You stopped immediately, perhaps a bit too sharply, so you slowed your movements as you turned to face Hux. You couldn’t find the right words. 

 

"Something you need, lieutenant?" he said, not even looking up to regard you, only catching your still figure from his periphery. 

 

He was acting strange. Stranger than usual. Your title sounded foreign on his tongue. True, it had been a while since you’d shared Hux’s company privately–he’d been fairly busy, everyone had–but you couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t used your name when no one else was around. 

 

"Hux," you said softly. 

 

That grabbed his attention, and he tore his gaze from the screen to look at you. His eyes were wide, piercings things, but their intensity was offset by the darkening circles beneath them. 

 

"You said ‘good evening.’"

 

"I know what I said," he quipped. 

 

"It’s morning."

 

His eyes darted down to his data pad to examine the time, then he wiped his brow. His hand was shaking. "Oh, it is. Well, good morning, then. As you were."

 

You didn’t heed his dismissal, standing your ground a few feet away. "When’s the last time you slept?"

 

He began to ponder the answer before he spat, "That’s irrelevant."

 

"Was it before Crait?"

 

"Lieutenant–"

 

"Or was it before Starkiller?"

 

"Enough!" Despite the pallor of his skin, Hux has managed to color a little, the redness of his anger drifting into his cheeks. 

 

"That’s quite enough," he said again, lowering his voice now. "I don’t need to be interrogated about my sleep schedules."

 

"You’re right. I don’t need to interrogate you. It’s obvious enough you’ve been living off of stimshots for the last five days."

 

That comment earned you one of Hux’s sneers. He didn’t have many tells, but that was one of them, his top lip twitching just enough to confirm you were right. 

 

"You need to go to the medbay."

 

"I will do no such thing," he said, turning his attention back to his datapad, though making no attempt to distance himself from you or the conversation.

 

"You’re as stubborn as Ren sometimes, you know that?" you said lightly as you turned to resume down the hall. 

 

The quick skid of rubber boots against the durasteel floor confirmed that was all the convincing Hux needed. For consolation, he added a quick, "Not like I’m busy anyway," under his breath. 

 

Since the battle on Crait, the First Order had suspended all operations in a rare effort to mend its wounds. The decision hasn’t been made lightly, and had only been partially voluntary. Once the new, self-appointed Supreme Leader had locked himself in his room to meditate, and hadn’t emerged nearly three days later, the decision was made to relocate– _not_  retreat–back to the unknown regions. Hux, unsurprisingly, was not a fan of this strategy. In the five-minute walk to the medbay, he was sure to let you know just how he felt about it. 

 

When you finally reached the medbay, it was quiet. No missions means no injuries, for better or worse, so Hux was pleased to see there would be no excess witnesses for his momentary show of weakness. He waved off the medical droid in favor of the doctor on call and perched himself on the examination table without further complaints. 

 

If he was out of place before, he was on another planet now. The lights in the room were somehow brighter and more intense than in the rest of the ship, causing his already pale skin to become transparent. The starkness of his uniform only magnified the effect. He left his greatcoat on in an attempt to deter any type of physical examination. You weren’t so sure how that would go. 

 

Footsteps in the doorway jolted you out of your assessment.

 

"Good morning, General."

 

"Ah, Doctor Savar," Hux replied. "How have you been?"

 

"I’ll be the one asking the questions today, General."

 

His outwardly bristled at the comment but held his tongue. 

 

Doctor Savar grabbed a datapad off the counter and tapped for a moment before speaking. "What brings you in today? It’s been quite some time since you’ve been in to see us." He scrolled through the information in front of him, and looked up when Hux didn’t answer. "Vaccines, perhaps?"

 

"No, none of that nonsense. I–"

 

He paused and shot a furtive glance over at you. You nodded. 

 

"My friend... Lieutenant Y/L/N," he corrected. There was a dusting of redness in his face again. "She believes me to be ill, but–"

 

"He hasn’t been sleeping," you interrupted. Both men turned to look at you quickly. "He did not confirm, but I believe he’s been awake for a few days now. He appeared to be in a compromised state and I was... concerned for his wellbeing."

 

While Savar’s eyes hardened, Hux’s gaze was quite the opposite. The corners of his mouth remained still, but his eyes were lighter, and he was nearly smiling with them. Before he lingered too long, he returned his attention to the doctor. 

 

"That’s exactly right."

 

"Let’s see what you’ve done, General," he said to Hux. And to you, "Lieutenant, I’ll need to ask you to leave."

 

"She can stay," Hux said quickly. "If she chooses."

 

You accepted his invitation wordlessly and without debate, sitting on the chair on the side of the room. 

 

"I’ll need you to remove your shirt, General. For the examination."  


Hux nearly retorted but was able to stop himself. He sighed out a meek "Very well, then," before he began to disrobe. 

 

You tried to keep your eyes averted for most of the process but caught glances.. First, his greatcoat was slipped off of his shoulders. You’d seen him without it before, but you’d never get over how much it aided in his stature. With each layer, he seemed to be fading away. His uniform shirt, with its stiff collar and broad shoulders, made him sharp, all angles and straight lines. Beneath, a plain grey shirt clung to his lithe figure. His shoulders were soft, much softer than you’d imagined. The skin on his arms matched that of his face, just as sun-deprived, though there appeared to be some freckles spattered along them.  


You looked down as he reached to remove the undershirt; you’d seen more than enough. 

 

"Let’s get started," said Savar. "First, I’ll–"

 

A shrill alert began to sound throughout the entire sector. "Emergency. Trauma bay one."

 

The three of you released a collective sigh. Hux was perhaps more exasperated than even the doctor.  


"I apologize, General, but I’ve got to–"  


"This is unacceptable!" Hux bellowed. "I do not have time to–"

 

"Armitage!"   


If it were possible for Hux to become paler, he would have. He looked at you as if he wasn’t previously aware of your presence, but then his features softened, his shoulders relaxed a little, and he released a heavy breath and averted his eyes to the floor. "Go on," he said. "We’ll wait."

 

The doctor nodded before disappearing out the door.

 

"I’m sorry," you said as you sat back down, having apparently stood up in your rage.   


"For what?"

 

"For yelling at you. Breaking rank. All sorts of things."

 

Hux huffed out a weak laugh and ran his hand through his bright hair as if he knew it was out of place. "Even I need someone to put me in my place sometimes. I used to have Phasma for that, but, ah...." He trailed off, clearing his throat. "Kriff, could it be any colder in here?"

 

As he turned to retrieve his undershirt from the other side of the table, you saw it. His back was a garish amalgamation of clashing color. The bruise was spread across nearly his entire left side. The outer edges along his spine and ribs were a sickly yellow. The color deepened to a reddish purple along his shoulder, interspersed with even deeper still starbursts of crimson. If it were a painting, perhaps it would have been beautiful, like a galaxy. 

 

Your body moved of its own accord, rising slowly from the chair and crossing the small room to Hux’s side. You must have been silent because when he turned around from grabbing his shirt, he gave a small start but settled quickly.

 

"Hux, what happened?"

 

"You don’t want to call me ‘Armitage’ again? I wasn’t aware you even knew my name."

 

"You’re deflecting," you said.

 

"I… I know."

 

It was quiet for a beat, then two. Hux’s gaze should have been cold, those intense blue eyes staring deep into yours, but everything around you fell away and a flush fell over your entire body. 

 

"Let me see," you said. 

 

With a defeated sigh, Hux lowered himself from the table to stand in front of you.

 

Something inside you changed in that instant. The moment was suddenly intimate in a way you had never felt in Hux’s presence. He was quite literally bared to you. His trust was tangible in the way he so easily turned his back, in the way he was at his most vulnerable with no reservations. You tried to quell the desire to reach out to touch him, but it was so strong and he was so close. 

 

You had expected him to jump at the contact but Hux stood stock-still as if he anticipated it. The tips of your fingers grazed light as feathers against his shoulder, mindful of the injury beneath. His shoulders tensed just slightly, but he seethed out a breath, clearly in pain from the tension, and relaxed again. His skin was cold under your fingertips. Cold and smooth like marble. 

 

You smiled faintly to yourself. What a metaphor. If Hux were anything but human, that’s what he’d be–marble. Stone cold and tough to crack. Durable.

 

Beautiful. 

 

You let your hand drop from his back but didn’t move away. "Will you let me put some bacta on this?"

 

As your breath fanned against his back, Hux thanked the stars he was already cold. He needed something to blame his goosebumps on. 

 

He nodded silently before clearing his throat. "Yes."

 

It took a few tries in different drawers, but you returned quickly to Hux’s side with the bacta. 

 

"A little cold," you warned. 

 

He didn’t say anything as you applied the medicine, your hands roaming a little beyond where your fingers had only grazed earlier. 

 

"If it makes you feel any better," you said, speaking up to break the deafening silence, "I bet Ren is the one in the trauma bay. Probably threw another tantrum."

 

Hux’s body shook slightly with a silent laugh. "I didn’t say he did this."

 

"He’s the only one that could do this to you and survive your wrath."

 

"You know me too well," he chided. 

 

"I don’t think that’s a bad thing."

 

You continued rubbing in the bacta with a light hand, travelling over his shoulder blade and around the top of his shoulder, just past the edge of the bruise, for good measure.

 

“You should have done this sooner, you know.”

 

“You don’t have to reprimand me,” he said, but there was no malice in his words. “I couldn’t reach it all myself, and I avoid voluntarily visiting the medbay if I can help it. I don’t like doctors.”

 

There it was. Hux was not a man to do–or not do–things without reason.

 

“We don’t have to wait for Savar,” you suggested, finally removing your hand from Hux’s back.

 

He turned to face you. “What’s the catch?”

 

“Promise me you’ll get some rest today. No stims. No caf.”

 

Hux laughed. It was clipped, incredulous.

 

“I’m not kidding,” you said.

 

“You know very well I can’t just take the day off,” he said, turning toward the table to grab his shirt.

 

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

“But–”

 

“I’ll take care of it,” you said more slowly, as if he didn’t understand you the first time. “And I’ll bring dinner to your quarters tonight. If that’s okay.”

 

He paused just as he shrugged on his uniform shirt. He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. You could tell he was trying not to let on how pleased he was with that suggestion. “Very well.”

 

That was a good enough answer for you. You moved towards the exit to allow him to compose himself in private before going back out in the halls.

 

You paused at the door, turning to address him once more. “Please get some rest, Hux. You need to take care of yourself.”

 

“I know. For the Order.”

 

“No,” you said, not able to contain the smile on your face. “For me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [TheIndifferentDroid](https://theindifferentdroid.tumblr.com/)


End file.
